


The Life of Lyra

by Macaria_Czol



Series: Random Tales from Coria [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Multi, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 05:39:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12292479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macaria_Czol/pseuds/Macaria_Czol
Summary: Just a small glimpse into the life of Lyra Palm, a prostitute in Coryth.





	The Life of Lyra

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alasdair_you](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alasdair_you/gifts).



> Not really sure what to say about this one. Just be warned that there are warnings for a reason, though it's not that explicit.  
> Still without a beta, so forgive my typos and below is a link to a face reference for Lyra. 
> 
>  
> 
> http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_cHwFxH6s80/VnVGUzXKBAI/AAAAAAADPjk/6Uj0ek87MaI/s640/0be80686562fa8ef2a2e93e3e2a8b379825aca45.jpg

Her room felt stifling, the humidity making her long hair cling to the bare skin of her back. This is why she hated the city sometimes, despite the cool ocean breeze that regularly wafted through her open windows on the top floor of Silk House, the most expensive brothel in capital. Letting out a sigh, the slender Lierian wiggled out of her bed, ignoring the way the sleeves clung to her to sweaty skin.

It had been an easy day in all honesty, she’d only seen two clients. The last one had been a stammering young noble, who’d blushed awkwardly when she had told him that he was actually allowed to touch rather than simply stare. Well, tell was a bit of a misnomer. Order was probably a better term. However, she had enjoyed it. There was nothing more entertaining than a pliable virgin in her bed who would actually take direction. 

Lazily sweeping her silver-blonde hair up into a messy bun, the whore wandered aimlessly around her room for a moment before scooping an abandoned red silk robe, the unspoken uniform of whorehouse, from her dresser. The gleaming oak wood inlaid with mother-of-pearl, reflecting her sleep creased features, as she picked up the sheet of paper lying on her dress and tucked it into the belt of her robe. 

Sometimes it surprised her, how different her life was at times despite being the same. She’d been nothing twenty years ago, just the bastard of a Lierian whore who worked in the Shaded Lantern, the cheapest brothel in the city. Now, she lived a life surrounded by satin, caviar and gilded gold even though she was still technically nothing. Not that the numerous patrons who spent a small fortune being with her would ever believe that, but that was because she had been smart enough to change the way they saw her. 

Full pouting lips curling up into a smug smirk, Lyra pushed her shutters open a little wider and leaned out, gripping onto the edge of the roof. Torso twisting, she pulled herself up onto the roof, her long legs graceful as she settled on the roof. She remembered being thirteen, a gangly mess of washed out Lierian colouring and a mass of freckles that were almost jarring. 

Not that her awkward looks had kept her safe from clients that had come to the Shaded Lantern. Though, it had changed and taught her well. Glancing around at the rooftops that surrounded her, Lyra tiptoed lightly along the edge of the roof.

People were made and broken from trauma, Lyra liked to think of herself as reforged. She never forgot the first time that she had been taken, left lying in the a rumpled bed sobbing as she stained the sheets with her blood. She also never forgot how she’d sold herself for the first time and used the money to buy a blade. The blade that she used to gut the sailor that had raped her. 

She’d always been smart, that was what the old harlots had always told her when she’d been young. Lyra had finally believed them as she watched the sand turn scarlet. And that was the day that her life had begun. No one else had been allowed to touch her without her permission. She’d started mimicking the movements of one of the brothel’s best whore, Jade a former dancer whose movements were fluid and graceful to the point of nearly being unnatural. She’d learnt to tame her wild mop of wavy hair and then nature had stepped in. 

Lyra had always hated her freckles, her lack of curves and her overly pointy nose. Traits that she hadn’t gotten from her mother. However, she’d managed to grow into herself. Her freckles highlighting her china skin and the light blue of her eyes that looked just like the clearest ocean. She’d never gotten gotten the perfect curves, but being tall and willowy was still eye-catching. Well, tall for what she was at least.

It had been easy to crawl up from the bottom of the nothings, there was no way that she could not stand out above every other whore that worked the docks. She had become a commodity, one that not everyone could have. She’d was worth something and she hadn’t hesitated for a second when the madam of Silk House had decided to recruit her.

Perched cross legged on the corner of the roof, Lyra didn't cower as she held out her arm. Not a single flicker of fear crossing her expertly skilled features as the the falcon descended. She knew that others wore leathers to protect themselves from the bird of prey’s vicious talons. Lyra had never bothered, she trusted the bird that she used. 

Dawn flew down slowly and settled on her arm, her claws digging into the thin silk. 

“Perfectly done as always.” She mumbled, stroking the bird’s head gently. Whispering sweet words, the whore tied her note around the falcon’s leg and with one last stroke, Lyra sent the bird on its way. 

Watching until Dawn disappeared from sight, Lyra made her way back into her room. Her smug smile even smugger as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror across the room. The most expensive whore in the kingdom and one of the High Inquisitor’s many birds, who would thought that someone that was nothing could have such power. 

Untying her hair and taking off her robe, Lyra mused over the numerous titbits that Lord Pierre’s heir had moaned helplessly into her ear as she rode his cock. Hopefully, someone would find her note worthwhile reading. She had particularly enjoyed the boy’s concerns that his father was sympathetic towards the North due to his mother’s link to the land. 

Putting on a blue slip that brought out the colour of her eyes, Lyra sat down on the edge of her bed and waited, her left leg swinging back and forth as she stared expectantly at the door. It was the second Sunday of the month, and soon General Boulange would be paying her his regular visit. And thus, it was time for her to find out exactly how the forces were actually doing.


End file.
